It was late in the afternoon of such an autumn day that the three women of Le Crépuscule, Laure, Lenore, and Eleanore, each lightly wrapped about to protect her from the slight chill in the air, went out of the Castle to the terrace bordering the cliff, for their evening walk. In the hearts of all three lay that little wistful sadness that was part of the time of year, and in their surrounding solitude they involuntarily drew close each to the other. Yet their faces were not wholly sad. None of them wept at the thought of the long winter that was again upon them. Hand in hand, by the murmurous sea, they walked, looking off upon the broad plain of moving waters, each unconsciously seeking to read there the destiny of her remaining years.
The hour was a holy one, and there came no sound from the living world to pierce its stillness. Nature knelt before the great marriage of the sun and sea. The altar of the west was hung with golden and purple tapestries; and the ministers of the sky poured out a libation of crimson-flowing wine before the Lord of Heaven. And when the sacrifice was made, all could behold how the great sun slipped gently from his car into the embrace of the sea, and the two of them were presently hidden underneath the golden locks and shimmering veil of the beautiful bride; and thereafter Twilight, the swift-footed handmaid, aided by all the ocean nymphs, quickly pulled the broad curtains of gray and crimson across the portals of the bridal room.
The sweet dusk deepened, but it was not yet time for the rising of the moon. There was still a flush of red in the west, and still the breasts of the gulls that veered over the waters flashed white and luminous in the gathering gray. The silence was absolute, save for the silken swish of the tide rising gently along the shore. The spell of twilight, the great soul-twilight of the middle ages, hung heavy on the battlements of the Castle on the cliff. On the terrace the three women paused in their slow walk. Lenore, her white face uplifted, and a look in her face as if the gates of Heaven had opened a little before her eyes, said dreamily,—
“How sweet it is,—and how beautiful,—our home!”
The silence of the others throbbed assent to her whispered words.